THE LAST HOUR OF SEVEN BELLS
The Phone Call
The phone rang at 11:47 PM.
Nora was sitting on her couch, staring at the wall, the television muted, the room dark. She had been sitting there for hours. She had been sitting there for days. She had been sitting there for fifteen years.
She picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Nora.”
She knew the voice.
“Miles.”
“I didn’t think you’d answer.”
“Neither did I.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to hear your voice.”
The words hung in the air.
Nora closed her eyes.
“I’m here.”
“I know.”
“What do you want?”
“To say goodbye.”
Her heart stopped.
“Goodbye?”
“The prison is transferring me. Upstate. Maximum security. I won’t have phone privileges for a while.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Months. Maybe years.”
“And visits?”
“The same.”
Nora’s throat tightened.
“You’re leaving.”
“I’m leaving.”
“And you didn’t tell me before?”
“I didn’t know how.”
“You could have written.”
“I did. You never wrote back.”
She was silent.
“I know.”
“Why?”
She looked at the wall.
At the shadows.
At the darkness.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid of saying goodbye.”
Miles was quiet for a long moment.
The silence stretched between them, across the city, across the miles, across the years.
“I’m not saying goodbye forever,” he said.
“You’re not?”
“I’m saying goodbye for now. I’ll come back. I’ll write. I’ll call. I’ll visit.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?”
“Because you are. But only for a while. Not forever.”
She took a breath.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“Which part?”
“About forgiveness.”
“What about it?”
“I think I’m ready.”
“Ready to forgive me?”
“Ready to forgive myself.”
The words seemed to lighten the room.
The shadows seemed to soften.
The darkness seemed to retreat.
Miles’s voice was soft.
“That’s good, Nora.”
“Is it?”
“I think so.”
“Then why do I still feel so heavy?”
“Because letting go isn’t easy. It takes time. It takes practice. It takes courage.”
“I don’t feel courageous.”
“Courage isn’t a feeling. It’s a choice. And you’ve made it.”
The guard announced that phone time was over.
Miles sighed.
“I have to go.”
“I know.”
“I’ll write.”
“I’ll read.”
“Maybe even write back?”
She almost smiled.
“Maybe.”
“Goodbye, Nora.”
“Goodbye, Miles.”
The line went dead.
Nora sat in the darkness.
The phone was warm in her hand.
She did not cry.
She was done crying.
She was ready to begin.